


A Fox's Tricks

by dreamsoflovingness



Series: A Ballad of Fire [4]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Lucien, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Illyrian Camps, Illyrians, Lucien Vanserra-centric, Lucien's brothers - Freeform, Mild Gore, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, POV Lucien (ACoTaR), The Autumn Court (ACoTaR), The Day Court (Acotar), Visions, seer elain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:54:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27204844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsoflovingness/pseuds/dreamsoflovingness
Summary: Kill them. It whispered to him, caressing every inch of his mind until fury faded into deadly stillness.----Lucien goes with Cassian, Rhysand, and Azriel to inspect Windhaven. A round of sparring with an Illyrian has unprecedented side effects.Or: Lucien unlocks power he never knew he had.
Relationships: Azriel & Lucien Vanserra, Cassian & Lucien Vanserra, Elain Archeron & Lucien Vanserra, Elain Archeron/Azriel, Feyre Archeron & Lucien Vanserra, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Rhysand & Lucien Vanserra
Series: A Ballad of Fire [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1974892
Comments: 13
Kudos: 66





	A Fox's Tricks

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to write a fluffy Lucien one shot and my finger slipped. Hope you like it.

“Are you blind! It’s not the same!” Feyre snapped at her mate across the table. Lucien sipped on his tea as the older male threw his hands up in exasperation. It was wrong of him to take such joy in others misfortune, he knew, but he couldn’t help the hidden smile he had. 

“Feyre, these two colors both look like purple to me,” Rhysand reasoned. In response, Feyre let out an indignant sound. She turned her attention to Lucien. 

“Lucien, which is better? The lavender or the orchid paint?” She asked. He eyed them both. The only real difference was that the orchid was slightly more pink, but the lavender would look nicer with the furniture she had commissioned. So he answered that. Feyre sent a glare to Rhysand as she thanked him for his help. 

When Lucien was told Feyre would be designing their new home he imagined it would be a fun project for her, Rhysand had told her to design it however she liked. He didn’t expect to be pulled into every disagreement to settle a score. Even though Mor had offered him help with looking for an apartment with the amount of work he was putting into the new estate he thought he deserved his new room. Feyre had already sorted his room with him. She had asked if he wanted it to have the Autumn court colors like his room in Rosehall. No, he wanted to be far from that. They had settled on pale yellows and oranges. Feyre remarked that it looked like sunlight. Lucien had always liked the sunlight. 

“Good morning couple in love!” Cassian’s voice boomed from the entrance. It took minutes for Feyre to ask him the same question. Cassian gave the same answer as Rhysand. Azriel who came in last shrugged and gave Feyre a weary smile instead of answering. 

“Is the only competent male here Lucien?” She asked. 

“Yes,” Lucien answered without hesitating. 

“Lucien, I still have so many more colors to choose. Do you have any plans today? Do you think you could help me, seeing as others can’t tell the difference between colors,” she said, making Rhysand side eye her. 

“I-”

“He’s actually coming with us,” Cassian interjected. Lucien saw the look Feyre was giving him, but he also knew if he stayed by the end of the day he’d want to rip his eyes out like the day he followed her around all day to compare different satin sheets. 

“I am,” he confirmed. 

“Why did you tell me?” Feyre asked Rhysand and Lucien. 

“Lucien wasn’t sure, but he decided yesterday to tag along,” he answered, quickly kissing Feyre before saying his goodbyes. 

“I’m sure Elain would like to help you, Feyre,” Lucien assured her. Elain always loved to help anyone who asked, especially Feyre. 

“I’ll see what she’s doing,” she said, “have fun!”

“Will do,” Rhysand called back. 

Once outside, Lucien and Rhysand shared a look which made Cassian cackle. Rhysand playfully shoved him as they walked further into the street. Lucien had never been to Windhaven, his attempted kidnapping doesn’t count; he wasn’t there to take in the sights. He had brought that up to Rhysand before. If he could sneak in, who else could? 

“So are we winnowing or is Lucien sneaking us in?” Cassian asked. 

“I could probably sneak us in,” Lucien said with a shrug, “I did have more than one plan.”

“Sly as a fox as always, aren’t you?” Rhysand remarked. Lucien nodded a small smile. Yes, if you deal with a fox you must think of his tricks and Lucien had many. 

  
  


Fuck, Windhaven was freezing even in the summer. Lucien sighed, rubbing has hands together for warmth. They had given Lucien a moment to change into leathers before they left as an attempt to blend in but there was no hiding his bright hair, even if he had pulled it into two braids that stopped at the nape of his neck. The rest of his hair flowed in the wind. 

“High Lord,” An Illyrian male greeted them, “Commander, Spymaster, Emissary.” Right, Lucien was supposed to be the Emissary, yet he hadn’t really done anything Emissary-like in months. 

“Lord Devlon,” Rhysand greeted back, his tone taking on the airy relaxation only a High Lord could possess. The pack of Illyrians behind him eyed the newcomer, him, some sneered and others glared. 

“I was unaware that your...Emissary would be joining us,” Devlon replied, distaste clear in his voice. 

“If I am to report on court happenings, I should know everything about said court don’t you think? All it’s happenings. All its secrets,” Lucien said before Rhysand could speak up. If these Illyrians thought they could intimidate Lucien into submission they were wrong. Many had tried, all had failed. 

“So the fox changes his fur but not his habits,” Devlon remarked. Cassian scowled and Azriel was poised, both ready to defend him. Lucien didn’t need defending from men like Devlon. 

“You seem nervous Lord Devlon, are you afraid of the fox finding your secrets?” Lucien knew he had a reputation for being cunning and conniving, he had earned it after all the shady deals he made to keep the Spring Court afloat. This time he’d use it to help his new court. 

“First a witch, then a fox,” An Illyrian scoffed, “the High Lord never ceases to bring interesting guests with him.”

“Finnian,” Devlon growled. Lucien smirked as they were led past him. 

None of these males could hold a candle to his brother’s cruelty. They would not scare him. 

The received glares and suspicious stares as they toured the camp. It wasn’t very large, it seemed much bigger when Lucien was trying to find Feyre. There were a few shops and a tavern in the middle of the camp. Towards the edge was an infirmary with healers and not far from it a large cabin for orphans. On the opposite side of the camp was the training grounds. In between laid several groups of tents or small cabins. They were too spaced out, he noted. Especially the far off cabins for those who were more well off; warlords and their family, merchants, high ranking soldiers. With such a sparse and uneven camp there had to be holes in the patrol. Lucien had exploited one, he wondered how many more he could without being detected. Maybe it was overconfidence, who would willingly sneak into a war camp of the largest army in Prythian? Lucien had and they still hadn’t found out. Did they really feel so secure in such a spread out land with the woods weaving between housing? The more of the camp they toured all Lucien could see was ways he could enter undetected. Any skilled assassin could wipe out half the camp in a single night without alerting the warlord. Well, he most certainly could. Tamlin had ordered him to if he didn’t find Feyre. 

“I hope the upgrades were to your liking, High Lord,” Devlon said as they entered a war tent. It was large and reminiscent of those from their battle with Hybern. But this tent had moved in centuries, Lucien was certain of it. 

“Things are progressing as I hoped,” Rhysand said, then turned to his court, “any thoughts?”

“The camp is too exposed,” Lucien answered. Cassian raised his eyebrows. Azriel gauged Devlon’s reaction. 

“The camp is fine,” he snapped. Ah, not open to an outsider’s opinion. 

“Everything is spread out too far, anyone could slip in,” Lucien continued. He would be heard. 

“Our soldiers patrol constantly. There is no possibility of a breach,” Devlon answered tightly. The other Illyrians were shifting their weight, nervously or in anger Lucien couldn’t bother to figure out. They weren’t his target. 

“If that’s the case, how did I get in?” Lucien asked nonchalantly. 

“With the High Lord,” one of the Illyrians sneered as if it was obvious. 

Oh how Lucien had missed these games. It had been months since he could be the fox. He didn’t like being the fox with his friends, he barely did it in front of Feyre as a human. But these foolish Illyrians, he’d have them dancing in the palm of his hand in minutes. So he leaned back in his seat, a long missed air of mischief coming off him. Lucien tilted his head slightly and curved his lips back, his eyes squinting ever so slightly. It was the same catlike smile he had given Amarantha before she ripped his eye out. 

“Lord Devlon, I’ve been to Windhaven before without you knowing,” Lucien mused. The Illyrians snarled, curling their lips back and baring their teeth. Devlon glared, a growl of his own echoing in the tent. Rhysand was quick to stand and snarl at the warlord. 

“You will not disrespect my Emissary again,” he snarled, violet eyes glowing. 

“You have brought a traitor to this camp, Rhysand.”

“I am entirely on your side,” Lucien said unfazed, “you should fear the day I grow tired of dealing with you.”

The rest of the meeting went by quickly. The Illyrians were eager to get away from Lucien and Devlon wouldn’t stop glancing at Lucien. Is it twisted that he enjoyed that they feared him? Yes. Should he enjoy it as much as he did? Absolutely not. But the amused look Cassian kept giving him only egged him one even more. 

Lucien had a feeling he wouldn’t be invited back any time soon.

Afterwards, Azriel had excused himself to check on his spies in training and Rhysand went to personally oversee the female’s training for the day. That left Cassian and Lucien together. The commander was quickly challenged for sparring which he agreed to gleefully. Lucien had watched in amusement as Cassian floored Illyrian after Illyrian. He noticed how he was gentler with the boys who dared to challenge him. If his opponent had siphons then the ring turned into bursts of colorful energy. He had to admit, watching them fight was entertainment. Perhaps they should consider inviting more crowds of Fae to witness the power of the Illyrians, Lucien knew a handful who would pay a pretty penny to see such prowess. Not to mention it would help with camp costs. 

“Do you actually fight or do you just sit and look pretty all day, fox?” Finnian. He looked down at Lucien from where he sat on a bench not far from the ring. 

“I can do both,” Lucien answered.

“I challenge the Emissary to a round,” Finnan’s voice boomed. Lucien smirked, standing. Finnian was bigger than him like most Illyrians were. All packed muscle. Cassian was quick to slam the male he was fighting into the ground. He opened his mouth to object but Lucien didn’t give him the chance. 

“Challenge accepted.” Lucien was not going to let them intimidate him. 

“Lucien, a moment,” Cassian said, pulling him aside. 

“If you’re worried about me, don’t be,” Lucien assured him. 

“They will not take it easy on you,” Cassian said nervously. 

“No one ever does, do they?” He questioned, patting Cassian’s arm. “I’ll be fine, just let me shut him up.”

“If you break his nose I’ll pay at Rita’s next time it’s your turn,” Cassian said. 

“Deal.” 

Lucien sauntered back to the ring. Finnian had been standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, which was puffed out. Lucien had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. 

Finnian swung first. Lucien swiftly dodged his punch. He tried to kick him next, Lucien caught his foot and used it to knock him to the ground. No matter how fast or unexpected Finnian tried to be, Lucien always outmaneuvered him. He was a fox in more ways than one. 

“Fight me already!” Finnian roared after ten more minutes of failing to catch Lucien. 

“Fine,” Lucien answered. He lunged forward. They were a mess of punches and dodges until Lucien interlocked his fingers, clung to the back of Finnian’s neck and climbed up the larger male until he twisted his legs around his neck. Lucien used all his weight to tilt them backwards, pulling back on Finnian’s neck until they both toppled over. When he let go Finnian was gasping for air. Lucien on the other hand simply brushed the remaining snow off his leathers as he started to walk out of the ring. 

“You High Fae bastard!” Finnian snarled. Lucien turned to reply when he was encased in green energy. A siphon, of course Finnian would do something as petty as try to trap Lucien. He knew they didn’t last long and Lucien was a very patient male when he could be. 

“Pathetic,” One Illyrian spat at the dome. 

_ “Honestly Lucien, it’s  _ **_pathetic_ ** _ how you never fight back,” Asher mocked him as he dug the knife deeper into Lucien’s side.  _

“Some Emissary the High Lord has,” another scoffed, “got caught in a trap. How weak.”

_ “Papa!” Lucien cried out, his small hands reaching for his father. His father’s heavy booth connected with his jaw instead sending blood spurting past his lips.  _

_ “You will always be  _ **_weak_ ** _ Lucien,” he snarled.  _

Lucien’s hands were shaking as they balled into fists at his sides. He could hear Cassian snapping at them to let him go. 

“Can’t even fight your own battles, boy?” One hissed. 

_ “You dare disrespect me  _ **_boy_ ** _!” Amarantha screeched as she dug her nails into the soft flesh of his cheek.  _

**_Kill them_ ** **.** Lucien jumped back at the voice deep within him. As their sneers continued something deep within him stirred. Anger bled into his veins as boiling fury. 

**_Kill them._ ** It festered with each laugh and sneer. Lucien would not be the subject of their mocking, he had been through too much for them to humiliate him this way.

**_Kill them_ ** **.** It whispered to him, caressing every inch of his mind until fury faded into deadly stillness. 

**_Kill them._ ** Unfamiliar power burned his entire body. Lucien curled his lips back in a growl that would’ve startled him if this...power wasn’t spreading within him. 

**_Kill them all_ ** **.** Lucien pulled his fist back. The Illyrians laughed at him. They would not be laughing when he bathed in their blood. He plunged his first towards the wall of the dome, Cassian yelled at him not to. It should’ve broken his hand. 

It shattered the dome instead. 

The Illyrians fell silent. 

Lucien stalked forward.  _ Kill them.  _ **_Kill them all_ ** **.** He growled, lunging forward at the male who had trapped him. 

But Cassian was quicker, throwing himself at Lucien. He was yelling at him but Lucien couldn’t hear anything past the blood rushing in his ears and the whisper turning into a shout. He wouldn’t be satisfied until that male’s blood was staining his skin. 

Lucien flipped Cassian over easily, continuing his path forward. The male stepped back with horror clear in his eyes. Lucien smirked. 

Again he was halted. This time by black smoke wrapping around his torso and arms. He tilted his head back seeing Rhysand standing there, his eyes wide in shock. Cassian was still on the floor out cold. Lucien laughed, he didn’t recognize it as his own. It morphed into a growl as he burned right through the smoke; flames and light freed him. 

**_Kill them all._ ** Lucien tilted his head towards the sky, drawing in the sunlight before looking back at his target. 

Windhaven would be nothing but ash and blood when he was finished. 

***

Feyre stilled when she felt her mate send distress and fear down the bond. Her hand wrapped around Elain’s forearm, who had froze in the middle of the paint shop they were in. 

_ We need you here. Now. It’s Lucien. Bring Elain.  _ Rhysand shouted down the bond. 

Feyre didn’t waste a single second. In an instant they winnowed into Windhaven. A roar from the training grounds had her sprinting towards them all while dragging Elain with her. Oh gods what if he was hurt. What if another Illyrian had killed him. Thousands of thoughts raced through her mind. 

Lucien burning through Rhysand’s inky darkness was not one of them. 

He was glowing like she had when she was using the High Lord of Day’s powers. Fuck, her heart sank, this was that power manifesting it. If she was speculating it before, this solidified what Feyre had been suspicious of. Lucien was Helion’s son then as his son, the power of day flowed through him. 

“Feyre,” Elain whimpered. That’s when she noticed he was swaying, stumbling with each step. Blood dripped down his lips and chin from his nose. Lucien wasn’t accustomed to this power. It would kill him if they didn’t stop it. 

So Feyre let herself be engulfed in Day’s power and ran full speed at Lucien. With a cry she knocked him down and kept him pinned. He snarled under her, his teeth stained with blood and his eyes glowing gold. 

“Lucien,” Elain said as she kneeled next to them. He thrashed in Feyre’s grip. 

“Lucien it’s us,” Feyre yelled. 

“Calm down, Luce,” Elain soothed, her hand cupping his cheek which made him still. “Come back to us.”

“Remember who you are, Lucien,” Feyre begged him. By the Cauldron, Lucien was trembling too much in her grip. 

“Please Lucien, we’re your family,” Elain said. 

Both women continued to talk to him, to drag him back. With each word they uttered fury gave way to realization. Eventually he blinked lazily. 

“Elain?” He rasped.

“Yeah, yeah I’m here,” she assured him. 

“Fey...re…” he uttered as his eyes rolled back and his head lulled to the side.

***

“My Lord? Is something wrong?”

Helion was rigid in his seat. Something with him was tugging, yanking on him to go somewhere. But the destination wasn’t clear. As soon as it appeared, it vanished. He relaxed back into his chair, eyeing the court members in front of him. 

“Continue.” Helion would not forget what he felt. No, he made a mental note to investigate it. 

It was desperate, scared. It was the fear of a child. His blood ran cold at the thought. He needed to find out what that was. 

***

Elain bit her nails as they stood in Lucien’s room nervously. She had drowned out her sister and her mate’s ramblings. She was only able to catch a few things, but it was clear that they were debating something. 

“We need to tell him,” Feyre whispered harshly. 

“We can’t tell him and not the other,” Rhysand whispered back. 

“A meeting, we’ll set up a meeting and tell them then.”

“Tell who what?” Lucien’s groggy voice mumbled. All their heads snapped towards him. Feyre moved first. She ran her fingers through his messy hair and urged him back to sleep. It was obvious Lucien wasn’t all there and that this wouldn’t be a memory later so it was easy for her to convince him to continue sleeping. Soon enough Lucien’s breathing evened again. 

“Tell him what?” Elain asked. Feyre gave her a pleading look.

“Elain, we can explain-”

“What are you hiding from him?!” She snapped. Ice ran through her veins as her mind was dragged elsewhere. 

_ Blood. There was blood everywhere. On the walls. On the ground. Mother, splattered on the ceiling. Looking around Elain froze with the sight in front of her.  _

_ Red headed men she had never seen before were strewn across the marble floor. All mutilated in one way or another. A throat ripped out, burned from the inside, a gaping hole where a heart should be, limbs pulled apart. Her eyes dragged over to where two familiar males stood.  _

_ Lucien. It was Lucien and Rhysand. She almost let out a relieved laugh but it was caught in her throat as she observed her mate further.  _

_ He was in a white one shoulder chiton. The white fabric was stained red as was his exposed chest and cheek. He smirked and wrapped a hand around Rhysand’s throat.  _

_ “Why didn’t you tell me?” He snarled, “It’s because you’re like the rest of them.” _

_ It dawns on her as Rhysand gasps for air, his hands clawing at Lucien's wrist, and his darkness continuously being swatted away by the light emanating from Lucien that this was his doing. These were his brothers he had slaughtered and Rhysand would be next. Flames licked at the windows as they ravaged the outside.  _

_ Elain couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips. Lucien turned to look at her.  _

_ No, no he can’t possibly see her. No one had ever seen her in a vision before.  _

_ “Elaaaaaiiin,” his voice slithered across her name in a way that was so different than the soft caress he usually had, “seems like I didn’t do a good enough job the first time, seer. No matter. A death in a vision will do.” _

_ Just as he dropped Rhysand and lunged for her, Elain was pulled back _ .

“...in...ain…Elain!” She lurched away from the hands grasping her shoulders and slid down the wall. Gasps fell past her lips as she tried to suck in air. 

“Elain?” Azriel’s soft voice made her look up at him as tears spilled down her cheeks. Feyre stood nervously behind him. One scarred hand rose to wipe her cheeks. “What did you see?” 

How would she even begin to describe what she had seen. Oh gods, how could prevent this vision from coming true?

“Elain, what did you see?” He was more forceful this time. 

The words spilled past her lips without her permission, a high power forced them out of her. 

“Lucien’s vengeance will destroy Prythian if we don’t help him overcome it,” she whispered, “All seven courts will burn to ground beginning with Night.”

**Author's Note:**

> And I oop. Hope you liked it!


End file.
